


War-torn

by creatoriginsane



Category: Naruto
Genre: Samurai, Time Travel, find this item and talk to this person, it's like a questline
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2019-11-08 14:50:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17983175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/creatoriginsane/pseuds/creatoriginsane
Summary: The hermit told her he could bring her back fifteen years into the past. The hermit actually brings her back fifty-five.All she wanted was to find a sword.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> AU brought about by sheer imagination and force of will. For those of you who've read Martyrdom is an Art, you may already be familiar with the sword Murai and the so-called ordeals that one who seeks it shall go through. If you haven't, Shikai went off to a distant island in search of a mythical blade.
> 
> This, however, explores the idea of time-travel. Well, I've always wanted to do this kind of fic with this kind of character in this kind of situation.
> 
> In summary, Shikai's search for Murai brings her to a hermit in a mountain who claims they can travel back in time.
> 
> (I know I should go back to writing The Killer and the Artist and Love-in-idleness, but I can't bring myself to at the moment. Perhaps after this.)
> 
> AU more than anything. With very loose connections to any of my work. Feedback is always appreciated. Thanks for reading.

She wakes in a forest clearing. Sunlight is filtering through the trees, and the clouds are moving swiftly across the sky.

It is the midday in summer.

She is no longer in the hermit's cave.

Internally, she curses for not asking for more information. He could have just fooled her, drugged her with the drink he made, and took her to this clearing. Yes, he could have just fooled her, and she had just simply gone along with it, gullible brat that she is. But no, the weightiness of her pockets and the existence of her two swords tell her that he did not, that perhaps this is the past.

Fifteen years into the past, to be precise.

Perhaps.

So, she gathers herself and searches for a route to civilization.

She asks the first person she finds, a man with a wicker basket filled to the brim with lettuce and tomatoes.

"What year is this?"

"The tenth year of Hashirama Senju's reign as Hokage."

It dawns on her slowly as she pieces the information together. She was in Konohagakure, or at least near it, about fifty years into the past.

The damn hermit fooled her.

" _Should you want to come back before finding it, find the second leaf that's fallen from the tree."_

How the hell was she supposed to know?

" _Murai lives in a place where there is no time. The past and present converge, and the future lies among them."_

The hermit's words now come to her as mocking and sarcastic. She grits her teeth and stands properly, watches as the man takes his leave.

Finding Murai is the priority.

But she feels a certain sense of relief at the fact that if this is Hashirama Senju's tenth year of being the village's Kage, then no wars would be raging and she could go on this journey in peace.

How convenient. She wouldn't have to worry.

But first, she had better get acquainted with such a world.

* * *

Konohagakure, as she expected, is still as loud as ever, though not as densely populated.

"I am a samurai." She tells the guards by the gate. "I am here to replenish my supplies."

She wonders if that would suffice for a reason. She wonders if the samurai at the era were as her father and her grandfather had told her, respected and held in high regard. She shows them Yuukou no Sato's crest at her sword's pommel just to be sure. Yuukou no Sato had already been established by this time, right? So, they would–

"Of course." One of them spoke. "We welcome all people hailing from the samurai countries."

"You have my thanks." She bows.

"We shall inform Hashirama-sama about your arrival..." He trails off, perhaps asking for her name.

"Amakuni." She says her father's name, or in this time, her great-grandfather's. "Amakuni Shikai."

"Yes, we shall inform him of your arrival, Amakuni-dono. Please."

One of them steps forward, perhaps to escort her.

She frowns internally, knowing there isn't another way out of this.

"As per protocol." He adds.

She wonders what this protocol is and why it matters for a passing samurai.

"Of course, the protocol." She mutters to herself. "Let's go." She tells the man.

Only later does she become fully aware of what said protocol entailed when she comes face-to-face with the legend himself.

"You are looking for Murai, correct?"

She's shocked beyond reason.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You've heard of time-traveling canon characters, but have you heard of time-traveling OCs?
> 
> Anyway. Here's the actual first chapter.

The hermit claimed he could go back in time.

"I've little patience for your charade, old man, if at all."

She told him that at the foot of the mountain he resided in.

It was sunset, and she had best reach Murai's place of residence before darkness envelops the island. She quickens her pace, rushes past trees and past rocks, not minding the branches that snag at her clothes, nor the mud that sticks to her skin.

She gave up a life of luxury and ease for a life of fame and adventure.

"Murai." The name clings to her mouth. "You will be mine, and I will be worthy."

She climbs higher and higher, reaches a clearing and looks up.

It's like the sky hasn't changed.

"No."

That can't be right. She was at the foot of the mountain at dusk, surely by now it would have been...

"It would have been quite dark by this time, wouldn't it?" The old hermit appeared from the trees.

"An illusion!" She was about to strike him when he held his hand out.

"It is not mine. It is the island's."

She narrows her eyes at him.

"Come. I will show you."

* * *

In hindsight, she should have never believed a word her he said to her in that cave. Perhaps she should have never gone on this journey in the first place. Perhaps she should have resigned this childhood ambition and agreed to head her clan, become the Wind Daimyo's sworn protector and the light to the Kazekage's shadow.

Perhaps.

But there is no space for regret and there is no time to be panicking. She is here, in the actual past, too many years into the past, and there is no getting out besides finding Murai.

There is no getting out.

"Please wait here." The shinobi escorting her said outside two shoji doors.

She is to meet the legendary Shodaime Hokage of all people! Not even her younger self had dreamed of such a thing.

Then again, she had dreamed of encountering mystical beasts in faraway islands.

And now, here she is at twenty-seven years old, feeling terribly unprepared and underdressed for such an occasion.

She sits upright, straightens out her hakama and her kimono, pats down her hair and fixes the hairpin. This is the best she can do, this is the only thing she can do.

When he enters, she expects him to exude an aura of controlled power and sharp-edged grace worthy of the magnificence that comes with being the founder of such a renowned village.

And he does, to a certain extent.

The shoji doors slide open and he walks in, four of his guards trailing behind him.

"Greetings." He says.

She instinctively bows down, presses her hands onto the tatami flooring and presses her forehead against her fingertips.

She suppresses a shiver.

"You are looking for Murai, correct?"

She's shocked beyond belief.

She's shocked into silence.

"Please raise your head."

She does as she's told.

"Oh, good." He sounds relieved. "For a moment there I thought you died."

She might as well have.

"I beg your pardon?" She manages to say.

"You are not the first to come looking for it, and you will not be the last."

She stutters, but no sound comes from her mouth. What does he mean? Was Murai such a coveted sword during this time? Had the hermit sent others before her? What does this all mean?

She can't form a coherent sentence in her head, so she settles with a vague, albeit dangerous, answer.

"I do not know what you mean, sir." She sputters out, suddenly feeling uncomfortable in her own skin.

"Is it for fame?" He continues, not minding how much a mess she has made of herself. "Money? What is it for? Why do you wish to seek such a sword?"

Then again, this could all be part of the hermit's illusion. He could be a fake, after all. He could be the hermit himself, disguising behind his grand illusions.

But she's ill-equipped to deal with such a thing. And accusing him of being so would mean death if she was wrong. She cannot risk it. She has to play along, has she?

"It is for someone." She confesses. "I promised I would bring him the blade."

At this point, she does not know whether that promise still holds true.

* * *

"This island is mysterious as it is treacherous."

The hermit lived in a cave not too far from the forest clearing. She thinks that perhaps he followed her, placed her in an illusion in order to extract information from her.

But what? She knows little of the world, and whatever she knows surely holds no importance to him. Or perhaps he is a spy, sent by the group who threatens the peace and order of the world.

The Akatsuki.

His group.

"What do you want from me?" She stops following him.

He cranes his head to look at her, faded eyes staring at her in humor. "Oh, what do you think an old man like me could possibly need from someone like you?"

"Drop the act." She commands, hand curled around Yamenokayama's handle.

"You are suspicious. Terribly so." He comments. "You have a hard time trusting people."

She doesn't give him a chance to say anything more. She charges as fast as she can, blade poised and ready to disarm him.

Since when was she this forward?

The hermit sidesteps away from her and uses his staff to block the oncoming attack.

"You even have a hard time trusting yourself."

She reverses the sword, uses the pommel to strike him.

"Perhaps you had your heart broken."

She does not listen to him.

"Perhaps you wish to undo your mistakes."

She refuses to listen to him.

* * *

Now, she is sitting on her ankles, mind in a state of terror and wonder. She cannot be thrown into a panic, not now. She cannot accuse him of being an illusion, lest this actually is the past. She cannot do anything but tread carefully and rethink over and over the words she answers to him.

She hopes her answer is sufficient enough.

"A promise." He echoes, looking quite smug. "It seems I've won this time."

She does not understand. Was there an inside joke to this? Was he the hermit all this time? Did he place her in an illusion to determine her intentions towards the blade? If so, was he some sort of guardian or protector? What in the world is he, anyway?

"Very well." He hums, satisfied with himself. "You may be on your way."

That is her cue.

"You have my thanks, Shodaime Hokage." She bows deeply before rushing to leave.

"Wait."

She stiffens.

"Have a safe journey, Amakuni-dono."

Her heart flutters. The legend called her by her name.

Well, her true name, her would-be name should she come out of this alive.

* * *

Samurai.

It wasn't every day that Hashirama encountered such people, and on such short notice even. She was looking for a sword, much like a lot of the others who came before her, a specific sword whom he had only heard of. Murai. Totsuka. Kusanagi. There are a lot of swords like it. There are a lot of people looking for such swords. She is only one of the many.

But they're just rumors, aren't they? Something someone conceived to deter the enemy.

He feels the slightest bit of pity for her, having to go all this way and on this journey for something that might not even exist.

But it's none of his business, anyway.

"What were you thinking, anija?"

Of course, his younger brother Tobirama questions his decision to simply let her go.

"She's a samurai."

And samurai have their own way of life that he, nor any other shinobi, could interfere in.

"Do her words hold no threat to you?"

She told him she was acting on a promise, a better answer than the ones that came before, but Tobirama thinks his brother should have seen through such a badly composed lie.

A lie.

A samurai dared use a promise as a lie?

Neither of them had heard of that before.

"Then follow her." He suggests. "Should you find anything incriminating, I shall take it up with the council."

And taking such a matter to the council would entail lengthy discussions of loyalty, tradition, and whatnot. It would entail repetitive meetings between the shinobi and the samurai, meetings which usually ended in cold stalemates and begrudged agreements.

It was a good thing that none of those meetings resulted in war.

It was good that the samurai had as much distaste for war as he does.

"Very well." Tobirama answers him suddenly before disappearing.

Hashirama smiles. At least this would get Tobirama off his back for a few days or so.

* * *

Shikai knew very little of the past outside of the historical accounts she had read when she was younger. She knew about the significant events, knew about certain people, but knew nothing else besides what was deemed important. She knew next to nothing about the personal lives of such people, and knew even less about this village.

All she knew was that it had been ten years since this village had been founded.

"Excuse me." She asks a merchant in what she thinks is the market square. "Where can I buy supplies?"

"Right here." The woman answers her. "What do you need?"

She looks at the woman's collection of scrolls, so many of them, and the rows and rows of kunai and shuriken lined perfectly. But she doesn't kunai or shuriken, and she doesn't have such great knowledge as to using scrolls in battle.

"What exactly do these scrolls hold?"

"Some of them hold boats. Some of them hold a week's supply of rations."

Oh, they would be very useful indeed.

"Would any of these hold a simple lodging? Like a bungalow, perhaps?"

Her wealthy upbringing gets the better of her at times like these.

"No." The woman deadpanned, obviously thinking of her as a haughty person, but goes on to explain what the other scrolls contained.

Not too far off, Tobirama watches as she pays for six scrolls and scowls.

Those don't even cost half of what she paid.

Suspicious foreigner she may be, that just isn't right.

So he approaches the merchant.

"Tobirama-sama!"

And he proceeds to chastise the woman for doing such a thing in front of him.

"Think of this as your final warning."

With ten silver coins in his pocket, he looks to the crowd and sees her eyeing another merchant not too far away.

Was she some sort of tourist?

At least this gives him a chance to chance to approach her while her guard is down.

* * *

The map she bought looked different from the world she is familiar with. It did not show any of the villages and settlements she had visited on her way to the island. If she is lucky, perhaps there would be trading posts or inns along that route. But if she isn't, then she best prepare for a long, tiring journey.

"Perhaps I can hire a guide..." She thinks aloud, laying the two maps on the table.

She is hidden away in one of the tables nearest the restrooms, in a small eatery near the gates of the village.

"You there." A voice called out.

She looks up almost automatically.

His eyes are narrowed at her. He is scowling.

The first time she meets Senju Tobirama is nothing significant.

* * *

When he catches her, she has two maps laid in front of her, one looking vastly different from the other.

He ticks off the second and third boxes on his mental list.

She has two maps, the other littered with suspicious markings.

That is enough reason for him to accuse her.

"Come with me." He commands.

She blinks.

"I'm sorry." She looks up. "My name is Amakuni Shikai. Perhaps you have mistaken me for someone else."

"No." His tone breaks her calm exterior. "There is no Shikai on the Amakuni registry."

The way she suddenly averts her eyes tells him everything, but she does not stand up to run nor does she show any sign of defiance.

"Come with me." He repeats.

All she does is stand up quickly.

She does not even ask him why.

* * *

And there is a reason.

She has been taught that the best way to deal with such a situation is to comply with the other party's demands, as long as their demands are reasonable and do not endanger one's life, and think of a way out of the situation with as little effort as possible. So she obeys, does not attack or make a run for it. She knows that compliance will likely earn her his trust.

If she really is in the past, perhaps earning someone's trust is best.

"I lied." She tells him when they exit the small eatery. "My name is Shikaku no Shikai. I come from–"

"Silence." He orders. "You will not speak."

"You run, you will be caught." He eyes the roofs.

She nods.

He remains silent for the rest of the while, and she does not dare speak or move away from him. When they reach a building, she thinks it suspiciously looks like a prison.

She immediately regrets her decision, but does nothing against it. This may be just a misunderstanding. If they give her a chance to explain...

Oh, who would believe her, anyway?

* * *

There's something in Tobirama's head that tells him he miscalculated.

A suspicious person comparing two maps could be someone who is merely lost. A samurai in the village who tells his older brother that she wants to act on a promise might be someone who just that.

But whoever this person she had made a promise to is still unknown.

And the fact that it is raises questions.

Could that person be Madara? But what does Madara intend to do with a sword that is only rumored to exist?

There is only one way to find out.

"Who is he?"

It is his first question, and also the first thing he's said to her after they've arrived. They're in an interrogation room. She has her hands bound in front of her. He eyes critically the maps laid out in front of him. He does not understand the markings on the other map. Could they be posts? Rendezvous locations?

"He is my employer." She says carefully. "He told me not to return unless I have the blade."

"His name." He interrupts.

"Tenbutsu Masamune."

He leans back a little to observe her. Tenbutsu Masamune is, as far as he knows, more famous as a writer than as a blacksmith. If he had hired this woman to find him a legendary sword, then it still seems a tad unbelievable.

He's sure that she's lying through her teeth.

"He is a storyteller." He says.

"Yes." And she agrees. "He wishes to see it for himself."

"Then bring him a sword. He would not know the difference."

His words are laced with mockery.

"I do not lie, sir." She tells him, figuring it better to form that into a statement rather than a question.

"Where is your missive?"

She tries her best not to break.

"I had lost it."

He huffs.

"But you have my word as a samurai of Yuukou no Sato."

She hopes it's enough.

"All I want is to find a sword."

He blinks, leans back to observe her.

"What will happen if you do?"

"I will give it to him."

"And then?"

"I will go home."

There is no semblance of hesitation or secrecy in her words. If her task was not as menial and as simple as this, there should be a hint of something there. There should be even the slightest bit of hesitation, the smallest form of reluctance to answer, the faintest hint of defiance.

So perhaps she is not lying.

Perhaps all she wants is to find a sword for an ambitious writer.

Perhaps that is all.

Perhaps he is wrong.

Perhaps.

* * *

"Thank you for your cooperation." He stands to leave. "Gather your supplies and prepare to leave at dawn."

Her eyes widened.

"At dawn?" She echoed in disbelief.

"Yes. We will clarify this matter with Tenbutsu Masamune."

He slides the door open and leaves the room without so much as a second glance or a mention of his name.

Now, she thinks she has no way of getting out of here alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I'm not at all familiar with how either of the Senju brothers is characterized properly. Sue me. Or better yet, tell me what to improve on!
> 
> Feedback will always be appreciated. Thanks for reading.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may think I'm on a roll when I very much am not. Updates are sporadic and only come to me when I feel like writing this. Lately, I'm on a high with this scenario, hence the near-daily updates.
> 
> As always, feedback is appreciated. Thanks for reading.

"You've what?"

When Hashirama told his brother to go after her, he did not expect her to be interrogated, imprisoned, and stripped of her belongings less than an hour later.

"She is compliant." Tobirama continues to report, "So much that it gives me reason enough to arrest her."

Hashirama doesn't quite get that mindset. If she had something to hide, something that she must do no matter what, why would she simply allow herself to be interrogated and imprisoned?

"You should have left that to the Police Force." He comments.

"Perhaps that was what she thought." But Tobirama is firm in his accusation.

"Do you honestly believe Madara would collude with the samurai?" was Hashirama's equally certain response.

Tobirama scowled. Madara was prideful and arrogant, he wanted power more than anything and would do whatever it took to get what he wanted. He had left the village some years prior, and his whereabouts remain unknown. If he, by some chance, suddenly had a changed mindset and hired the help of samurai...

"I believe he would do anything at this point."

Hashirama does not reply, instead, he looks down at the two maps laid before him. One was a familiar map, a map of the world they know. The other seemed to be an old one, wrinkled and slightly frayed at the sides. It had writings on it, some names of places were encircled and some were underlined. There were lines connecting one place to another. Marginal notes with names of people, villages. And there, at the bottom of the map, a set of small islands were encircled thrice.

He looks at the other map. The small islands were not to be found there, nor were several of the names and borders that the other had. It was quite astounding and quite terrifying at the same time. It was almost as if she carried around with her a map of things to come.

Or perhaps she carried a map of the past, a very distant one.

But it didn't make sense. Both the two maps had "Konohagakure" so it was more likely that she is from the future.

Hashirama chuckled at the thought.

"Impossible." He said to himself.

"What is?"

He could try to explain it to his brother, but doubts that he would believe him.

"Did she say anything else?" Hashirama was quick to return to the matter.

"Yes. A name." Tobirama replied, the look of suspicion never leaving his face. "Tenbutsu Masamune."

* * *

"Tenbutsu Masamune."

All she knew about him was that he was a writer who existed during this time. And he was the writer who introduced her to the mythical swords. He penned the classical text, Monstrous Beings and Sacred Objects, which detailed the myths surrounding both living men and women, and objects with mystical capabilities.

One of the objects was Murai.

Now, she wonders what repercussions her actions have, what damned event she had created by stringing along lies of the worst kind.

_"You've never been one to tell lies."_  A voice, distant yet familiar, chides her in the recesses of her mind.  _"So honest you are. Terribly so."_

She has at least twenty hours to think of what to do, where to go, who to look for. She already knows that what the white-haired shinobi said was a ruse, they wouldn't be able to hold true to their word. They lied, the same way she lied to them. They are likely to execute her in the morning.

In the silence of the cell, she grips her knees and makes a decision.

But then the door opens and a shinobi, a stoic woman, enters.

The woman stares her down, and she stares right back at her.

She doesn't know if she should greet her or–

The woman rushes, extremely quick, and presses her palm to Shikai's forehead with such a force that she's almost pushed to the ground.

And suddenly her mind is flushed with memories; sounds and images unfamiliar to the woman viewing them.

That woman is Touka Senju.

* * *

Shikai swears the hermit is not human, not entirely.

Perhaps fifteen minutes had already passed, yet the sky has not yet changed. The hermit appeared to be an old man, quite like any hermit in the stories she had read as a child, yet showed speed and agility unfit for his age. He stands before her now, a mocking grin on his dry, aged mouth.

"I bear you no ill will."

"You cannot prove it."

She thinks he not human, that perhaps he is an immortal entity whose task is to distract the weary traveler. Perhaps he is a monster, like those she had assumed were used to scare children into not wandering off. Or perhaps what he says is true, perhaps he can go back in time.

The hermit merely smiles, and suddenly a bright light filters through the cracks. She looks to the cave entrance, and light floods through almost as if the sun had suddenly appeared.

"Impossible."

She rushes to the entrance on impulse, goes out of the cave and looks up to the sky.

The sun was moving in reverse, replacing the dim light of dusk with the warm afternoon light.

She turns to the hermit. "You–"

"I am of this island, and I can help you."

* * *

When Tobirama returns to continue interrogating the foreign samurai, he didn't expect to see her unconscious on the floor and Touka leaning over her as if studying something.

"Her mind has been locked." His sister told him, totally undeterred by his miffed expression.

He had sensed her presence leagues away, but did not think she would commit something like this.

"And you are here because?" He crosses his arms over his chest, an obvious expression of his disapproval.

"You should be thankful, niisan." She's undeterred by this. "I did your job for you."

He frowns. Touka had always been the curious type and thought little of the possible consequences of her meddling. She is a master of mental tactics, garnering fame throughout the world as a master of genjutsu.

"It's a brilliant technique." She continued. "She might even not be aware of it."

When Touka scoured the foreign samurai's mind, she expected to see something familiar, perhaps a man giving an order or a reading of a missive, but she saw nothing of any immediate significance. All she saw was an old man, a cave, a forest clearing, and the sun moving in reverse.

"Is that so?"

If Touka, as impressive as she is in mental and illusionary arts, thought a technique was brilliant, then he could only think of one person who is capable of such a feat.

He looks at the samurai and now feels the slightest bit of pity.

Perhaps he has been right all along.

* * *

On afternoons, Tenbutsu Masamune enjoys a pot of tea and a plate of sweets in his garden. Oftentimes, he enjoys listening to his daughter play the shamisen or listening to his son about his latest adventure in the forest outside of town. He is a blacksmith-turned-writer who is famous enough to still receive requests for swords and armor, and respected enough that no qualms will be made should he reject an offer.

This afternoon, however, a messenger comes to him with a surprising letter.

"It hails from a new village, sir." The messenger told him. "One from Hi no Kuni, Konohagakure."

He's never actually heard of this new village before.

"All right. Let's hear it."

The messenger tells him there's a samurai by the name of Amakuni Shikai who claims to have been sent by him to retrieve a sword, a mythical one, going by the name of Murai.

"I see." He nods in thought. "They're going to bring it to me, you say?"

"Yes, sir. You had told them not to return unless they have the blade."

"So I did." He punctuates.

If he could get his hands on such a thing, if he could study such a mystical thing...

"I did." He repeats, sounding a bit too excited at the opportunity.

Heavens be praised.

"Very well, sir." The messenger bows. "Thank you for clarifying this matter."

"Of course."

Masamune frowns as the messenger leaves. This isn't the first time someone has used his name to go about their adventures, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. He knows about the existence of such mystical items, but has only seen one such thing so far in his life.

The Kusanagi.

According to the myth, Murai was cut from a dragon's fang, carved by lightning, and forged in boiling water. It should be located in an island guarded by the very dragon itself. Should this person actually go on such an adventure to bring him such a thing...

"I just hope they aren't afraid of being eaten alive."

* * *

Shikai is surprised when she wakes up to a serving of cold rice and even colder soup.

No, she is even more surprised by the fact that she woke up. When had she fallen asleep? What had happened? What this not actually a vivid dream?

She looks at the meal in front of her and begins eating. Bland taste and coldness aside, she was thankful they had the decency to not let her starve. It was already sunset; she had been asleep for about four hours. She had nothing else with her besides the clothes she wore.

She only had about twelve hours to think of what to do. No, she might not even have twelve hours because surely by now they would have decided on what to do with her. They might not wait until tomorrow to let her go. Or they might not even allow her to leave this cell.

If they had decided on the latter, then she has no choice but to escape. Break through the walls and run as fast and as far as she could, become a fugitive and–

No, she does not want that.

She hears footsteps coming and fears for the worst.

If they do decide to execute her, then she must at least try telling them the truth.

"My name is Shikaku no Shikai and I wish to confess." She blurts out, quickly and unrefined, through half a mouthful of rice.

The white-haired shinobi stood over her, looking and sounding like an adult who is scolding a child.

"Whatever it is, say it after you've finished eating."

She could feel her embarrassment rippling through her clothes.

* * *

When Tobirama checks on the foreigner, he expected to see her still unconscious or already planning her escape. If it was the latter, well, he could sense her from a mile away, anyway.

Well, close to a mile away.

"My name is Shikaku no Shikai and I wish to confess."

He hears her first, albeit sounding as if she is in the middle of chewing her food, before he sees her sitting on her ankles, one hand scooping rice from the bowl and the other holding the bowl to her mouth.

"Whatever it is, say it after you've finished eating." He says disdainfully. Beyond being rude, it was just downright disgusting to hear someone talk whilst they were in the middle of chewing food.

There is a moment of stillness before she acts, quick to place the bowl down and wipe her mouth and her hands clean of the food.

She clears her throat and her nervousness is heard. She does not look at him.

"My name is Shikaku no Shikai and I wish to confess." She repeats.

He says nothing, and she continues. "You may not believe a word I say from here on, but trust that I what I say is true."

She pauses, thinks that he's going to say something, and thinks of the many answers she could give him.

But he doesn't.

And it makes things more difficult.

"I am from the future."

At the last syllable, she breathes out a heavy sigh and expects him to respond in disbelief, that perhaps she is lying, that perhaps she is toying with him, that she had her last chance to come clean but instead joked around and mocked him.

She braces for his answer, but there is none.

She breathes nervously. "Even I found that difficult at first, that I am in the past, a world so foreign from what I know..."

She dares look up at him and sees his expression hasn't changed one bit.

He scoffs, visibly bothered, before walking away.

She is definitely going to die.

She leans against the wall, too terrified about what's to come.

Outside, Tobirama clenches his fists in confusion and bitterness.

"Perhaps Hashirama was right." He mutters to himself. "But what good would come out of this?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And when you read this chapter, you expected something substantial to happen.
> 
> But nothing did.
> 
> Anyway, I've got a feeling this story will be slow-paced. I know not a lot of people appreciate that kind of work, but it's something I haven't tried before.
> 
> Feedback is always appreciated. If you have tips or anything regarding "slow burn" (and I use the term loosely), feel free to share as well! Thanks for reading.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize how little I have planned for this story. Anyway.
> 
> Feedback is always appreciated! And forgive me for "forgetting" about the other Senju siblings, they may work their way into the story one way or another?
> 
> ALSO. I have only become aware that the Konoha Police was established ONLY AFTER Tobirama becomes Hokage. So let's all take this "Police Force" as something entirely different from that? Like, let's say just a group of shinobi in charge of investigations and general protection whose members are not limited to or headed by the Uchiha. That's all.

Her last meal is probably the grandest meal she will ever get in this era.

Fried mackerel. Boiled rice. Pickled radish. A noodle salad. Miso soup.

It reminds her of the meals served to her as a child when she was being particularly disobedient and unruly, when her mother found her adventurous antics too much, or when her father found her skipping her lessons. It reminds her too much of home, of her time.

And it also reminds her of prison–of course, as she is a prisoner who is to be executed.

She tips the bowl into her mouth and savors the flavorful soup gingerly. Her hands, still cold from the crisp morning air, feel comfortable wrapped around the warm bowl.

* * *

"Get up."

The guards woke her before sunrise, pulled her out of the cell and out of the building, dragged her across dirt roads and into a small bathhouse. They shoved her into a small bathing room, stripped her of her clothing, and locked the door behind her.

"Hurry." One of them said from beyond the door.

There was only one high window, and the light seeping through was just enough for her to see the outline of a tub. She reaches out to test the water–it's still warm.

"Thankfully." She mutters before reaching out to search for a scrub brush, or a soap, or any of the necessities she needs.

She uses her hands to search in the half-dim room and finds only a pumice stone. She frowns, thinking of how half-hearted they are to give her a bath yet only provide her with lukewarm water and a rock.

She bathes nonetheless, using the stone to scrub her skin.

She must at least face her death with dignity.

* * *

She finishes the salad first, eating quickly as her hunger becomes apparent. Then she moves on to the rice, pouring the soup over it. And then she picks at the fish, taking it apart piece by piece, making sure to eat it in proportion to the rice. Before she moves to the radish, taking it slice by slice to clear her palate.

She finishes eating without leaving even a grain of rice.

And that is when she notices the chopsticks they provided were made of metal.

She thinks then, eyeing the pair carefully.

* * *

"I have finished." She says to the door.

"Get dressed."

The door opens quickly and the guards shove to her a piece of clothing before shutting the door again. She looks at it in the approaching light, and it isn't hers. It isn't the deep blue kimono nor the ebony hakama. It is a simple yukata in a deep burgundy color.

She thinks they have made a mistake–it's still dark out anyway–and gave her this instead of a white one.

She wears it all the same and appreciates how it smells of flowers.

How fitting for a death on a summer day.

* * *

The door slides open and a middle-aged woman enters quickly, shuffling across the floor without so much as a glance towards her, and takes the tray of food away. She pauses, but only slightly, before scurrying back as quick as she had entered.

Shikai thinks this all part of the ceremony and waits for someone to come. Whether it is an assassin who kills her without even her noticing or a guard who enters and orders her outside, she does not know.

But she does not expect the Shodaime Hokage himself, together with what might be his entire entourage, to be the one to come. And the thought comes to her as quick as lightning, that perhaps he delivers the executions himself.

So she acts then, bows deeply from her waist, presses her palms and her forehead flat on the wooden floor, and exclaims:

"I wish to confess!"

She hopes he is as merciful to her as he was before.

* * *

Hashirama feels embarrassed at the samurai's declaration. But despite this, he maintains a calm tone as he speaks.

"Please sit up."

And she does so, quickly, a certain stiffness and tension evident in her movements. She's afraid. She's terrified. Maybe she thinks she's going to die. He looks to Tobirama on his side and frowns at his younger brother.

But Tobirama responds to this with total indifference.

"Very well." Hashirama returns to the woman, "You may explain yourself."

Her shoulders loosen, and she begins. "Please believe that what I say is true. This may sound impossible to you, but I am not from this time."

She pauses and takes a deep breath. "I am from a time much later than this. About fifty-five years or so into the future."

"And how could you say that?"

"I met a peddler before I came to this village. He told me it was your tenth year as Hokage."

Both Tobirama and Touka glance at him pointedly.

"I see."

He thinks either the samurai or the peddler she mentioned was mistaken. This was only his fifth year, not his tenth. He gives her the benefit of the doubt, gives himself the benefit of the doubt. If she really was from the future, then it would totally be understandable that some things would be muddled or fuzzy.

"Before that, there was a hermit in a forest." She continues, pausing between sentences, "He told me he could go back in time. I didn't believe him at first, but..."

"And so you've found yourself here." He finishes for her.

"Yes." She nods.

He thinks to ask her a question, just to be sure. But he thinks she wouldn't know much about them or the time they live in. Perhaps she might know something of the samurai from this time, though he knew little of it. This would be difficult.

"Just so you know," he clears his throat, "this is just my fifth year."

She stiffens again, back arching up the slightest bit. Her jaw shakes and her fingers curl into her palm.

"But Shikai-dono," he smiles reassuringly, "I believe you."

Behind him, Tobirama's mouth tightens.

* * *

The first thing Tobirama does after catching Touka is go straight to Hashirama. Well, that is after he thinks about the possibility of her being controlled against her will and having her memories blocked. Would Madara actually be able to commit such a thing? Would any other Uchiha be capable of the same? If that were so, and if they found out she had been captured...

He breathes stiffly and calms himself; such thoughts would only burden him. They have yet to find more concrete proof. The maps aren't enough. The two swords aren't enough. She neither has a missive nor a letter to prove anything.

When he reaches Hashirama, he sees his older brother still poring over the maps with intense curiosity.

"Touka already told me." Hashirama spoke, already knowing what his brother came to him for, "This samurai might really come from the future."

And Hashirama said it so calmly, as if it were true, as if it was possible, but Tobirama refuses to believe it. Someone come from the future? How ludicrous.

"You don't really think that, do you?" He asks quietly.

"I'm feeling inclined to." Hashirama traces the outline of a country named Kaze no Kuni, before calling his brother over, "Look."

"Kaze no Kuni." He says the name aloud, "The other map shows only a desert."

Tobirama looks at both maps and sees similar outlines. If Hashirama believed this to be proof enough of that hypothesis, then what? If she were from the future, what then?

"And these islands." He points to a group of islands encircled several times, "Could they already exist?"

Neither of them has ventured far enough to determine that.

"Perhaps this is a ruse." Tobirama dismisses the hypothesis. "Something to cloud our judgment."

"And if it wasn't?"

Tobirama doesn't like it when Hashirama sounds so sure about something...

"If she really is from the future, then–"

...because that thing is often true.

"Then she is invaluable." Hashirama finishes for him. "But she is confused and unfamiliar, she may be exploited..."

"Maybe she already has."

Hashirama's questioning look tells him that Touka may have omitted information on purpose.

"Touka said there may be some sort of blockade."

Hashirama already knows what Tobirama is going to say next, and he cuts him off. "And you think..."

"It's a possibility."

Just a possibility.

"A message, Hokage-sama!" Someone says from behind the door.

The messenger from earlier enters and reports that Tenbutsu Masamune had given his consent. And Tobirama feels like frowning, thinking of how such a thing could ever happen in this time. Was it perhaps a jutsu? There was space-time ninjutsu, but could there be jutsu capable of moving back in time? If there was, could this mean that there is also a jutsu capable of moving forward in time?

He's half-afraid and half-fascinated at the thought.

* * *

"I am indebted to you, Shodaime Hokage!"

Shikai believes it to be a reflex, that she declares it with such fervor and bows deeply. She is more than thankful that he believes her, but fear that her confession may not be enough to spare her life.

But if it wasn't enough, then what is?

"Tenbutsu Masamune vouches for you." He continued, and she feels even more overjoyed that the tide has turned in her favor.

Last night she was more than ready to accept her death, pushing away all thoughts of possibly waking up in her own time, her real time. But the thought that this was all a deep, seemingly never-ending dream did not escape her. Even now, she still believes this to be part of this dream forced upon her by the hermit as a test.

But that doesn't matter so much right now because they have spared her and she is free to go.

She is free to go, isn't she?

"However, I must ask you one thing. How is the world?"

And she doesn't know what to answer him. Could this be a test? Or was he genuinely curious? Was this still really just a dream and that the hermit is the one asking her that? Or was this the actual Shodaime Hokage asking about the future?

"It is..." She thinks of a proper answer, "Konohagakure is still very lively."

He laughs. "Oh, is it? That's good to hear!"

She feels relieved and giddy, but doesn't know what to say next. She knows just enough about the shinobi world, but fears telling them would cause irrevocable changes and damages. Surely she can't tell them that devastating bijuu would terrorize countries or that wars would start because of them, can she?

A heroic and noble cause it may be, it might cause even more damage in the future.

So she tells them, "I've only been to Konohagakure a handful of times, including this one."

"I see." He's quick to become comfortable. "And the rest of the world?"

This is it. The pivotal question. She has to give it much thought before she answers.

But she doesn't, and says, "Very different."

Which is true, but still too vague to even be considered an acceptable answer.

But he laughs all the same, so she thinks it's all right.

"I would suppose so."

She thinks that perhaps he's taking this a bit too lightly. She was about to die until a few moments ago.

"Now then," he clears his throat. "As promised, you are to leave at dawn. And I, on behalf of Konohagakure, apologize for maltreatment you received."

She's surprised at how fast he moves from one topic to another, but is thankful that she can get on with this right away and go back to her own time.

"As such, you will be accompanied by a guide on your travels."

She becomes highly suspicious of this, but doesn't say a word.

"They will report to me your progress and your status bi-weekly to assure completion of your mission."

She thinks this is necessary to a certain degree, that they are responsible for her to a certain extent. Perhaps this is a way to acquire something else, perhaps the knowledge she has of the future, or perhaps the blade itself. Perhaps they are just using her...

"Rest assured that the blade you speak of is yours, but should you pose a threat to my people, you shall be eliminated."

She thinks that makes sense; they want to guarantee that she will keep to her word.

"Questions?"

"None, sir." She says compliantly.

"Good." He nods. "I wish you success in your mission."

"Thank you." She bows slightly.

A moment passes in silence.

"Ah, yes!" He blurts out suddenly, "Your guide will be my brother."

She looks up then.

"Tobirama."

He was looking at the white-haired shinobi on his side, who was very obviously glaring at her.

She thinks that perhaps she had spoken too soon about her luck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, gosh. Did that shift happen organically enough?


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am actively trying to stop myself from writing for this. For some reason, this mess of a "slow burn" has been occupying my mind a lot. Hence, I am updating two-ish weeks after the last one.
> 
> Y'all should know that feedback feeds the people-pleaser in me because I need to know if you guys are interested or are enjoying this, also there's no harm in suggesting how to make this better. I may not respond to you individually, but rest assured I always take feedback to heart and hope I've addressed it properly in the next update and/or revisions.
> 
> Thanks for reading.

"She says she is from the future."

A wave of confused silence comes over the room. Even Tobirama cannot believe the words that come from his mouth and grimaces at the thought.

He's sure that she's lying.

"But perhaps it makes sense, niisan." Touka is the first to speak, "There is a blockade in her mind, which means–"

But Tobirama shoots her down, definitely not in the mood to entertain her drawn-out hypothesis, "There is no proof. She may likely be under a hypnosis."

Touka scoffs, crosses her arm over her chest, and speaks in a sharp tone, "One that can leave her personality intact?"

"We cannot be sure of her true identity." Tobirama huffed. "She has strung too many lies now."

"Perhaps she is just afraid." She shot back.

Tobirama lowers his voice. "She is protecting someone."

Touka narrows her eyes. "Herself."

The tense exchange happens right in front of Hashirama's eyes, yet he cannot simply butt in their conversation for the sole reason that he is open to the possibility of such a thing. That she comes from the future is an entirely new matter to their world, one which changes everything they know about time and its constant flow. If one could jump into the past, then there is even the slightest chance that one may jump into the future, see the results of their actions and return to the past with the intentions of creating the ideal future. The perfect future.

But he cannot.

"Perhaps..." Hashirama clears his throat. "There is something to be considered in both of your arguments."

He has thought about this ever since he saw the two maps laid side-by-side.

"If she is from the future, then there is much to learn from her."

He notes the stark difference in Touka and Tobirama's expressions.

"If she is not, then we must consider how to go about such a thing, given that Tenbutsu Masamune has already vouched for her."

Touka's confident smile widens while Tobirama's displeased scowl dips deeper.

"Either way, she is going on this journey and we cannot stop her."

"Anija–"

He already knows what Tobirama is about to say, which is why he cuts him off.

"We can only keep a close watch."

The way he looks at Tobirama rather than Touka is telling in itself, and Tobirama doesn't like it at all.

"I will not." Tobirama grounds out, crossing his arms over his chest and closing his eyes in disapproval.

It reminds Hashirama of when they were younger.

"Just think, niisan." Touka chimes in, "If she was under an Uchiha's control, you'd have exclusive rights to executing them both."

Her morbid sense of humor does nothing to lighten the mood. Instead, it makes it even worse.

"Let's not wish for that, Touka." Hashirama blurts out. "If anything, I hope she really is from the future."

"Why?" She asks, suddenly curious.

"Perhaps we'd be given an idea on how to properly change the world."

Tobirama thinks bitterly about his older brother's optimism and wonders if she is daring to plan an escape.

* * *

The night passes and there is no news of such a thing, nor is there any sign of resistance from the foreign prisoner. Still, he cannot help but feel uneasy. She may be resigned to all this, but it may only be a ruse, and she will strike when their guard is at their lowest.

So he orders only two guards to come fetch her and orders the servants in-charge of the bathhouse to leave only a rock for her to use. She is without a weapon and she will use it to attack them, or perhaps she had already fashioned a weapon in her confinement. But nothing of the sort happens.

He knows there are at least twenty-six ways for her to escape, but she does none of them.

He thinks she is just biding her time.

So when her food is to be served, he tells the servants at the kitchens to provide to metal chopsticks. He half-disagrees with the action and thinks that it may look like they're anticipating for her to take the opportunity. But he still goes through with it, believing that anyone desperate enough to escape would do anything to do so. And yet, when the old woman comes out of the room with a tray of empty bowls and plates, he notices that the chopsticks have been left exactly where they had been placed.

"She is mocking us." He hisses.

Half of him thinks that perhaps his siblings are right, yet half of him thinks that the foreigner is just biding her time until she is let go.

Now he considers accepting Hashirama's suggestion from the night before.

" _You're the best tracker in the village. If she dares to try and escape, well, there's nowhere in the world she can hide in, right?"_

He scowls and watches as the prisoner grovels on her knees as if it was the only thing she knows.

* * *

"Pardon my rudeness, but is there not anyone else?"

It doesn't come as a surprise to him that she would ask such a thing. This wasn't part of her plan. She expected them to send a civilian as her guide, a civilian she would take advantage of, either hold for ransom or something else. She didn't expect them to send a shinobi, a high-ranked one at that, with her. She is already planning of ways to get out of this. She must find a way to get out of this.

Yes, he must be right in thinking so.

"It would be too presumptuous of me to have such an important shinobi act as a mere guide."

His anger increases at every word she says.

"I would not want this village to lose such a shinobi, even if only briefly."

She bows her head at these words in embarrassment, but he doesn't think anything of it.

Who knew the samurai would know such cunning and deceitful methods?

He narrows his eyes at her even further and wishes for her to just admit she is lying and that everything is a ruse for her to–

The Uchiha.

Oh, how could he forget? How could any of them forget? If an Uchiha had caught wind of this, or if she wanted to leave so quickly in order to–No. No, he does not entertain the thought any longer. Hashirama wouldn't change his mind about this, he wouldn't be swayed by her mere words. He is better than that, they all are.

"Nonsense!"

He is right. Hashirama believes not a single word she says.

"The village would do just fine on its own."

Of course, it would.

"And it would do my brother good to go out and see the world."

Hashirama's knowing grin makes him realize something and he wants to scold him for it.

He's kicking him out.

And before he could say another word about it, the prisoner speaks monotonously as if she has resigned to her fate and admitted defeat.

"Very well. I look forward to your companionship, Tobirama-dono."

Touka's face breaks into a cheeky smile.

* * *

But after, she approaches Hashirama with a question that's been on her mind since last night.

"You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?"

Touka, perceptive as she is, cannot help but think that this was all a ploy to get Tobirama off Hashirama's back.

"But I can't blame you, niisan." She shrugs. "We need to get out every once in a while."

And they both know that Tobirama hasn't been out of Konoha's territory in ages, and the furthest any of them have been to was the forest beyond the battlefields of their youth. They have been to the ocean before, but not for leisure or any of the sort, only for battle. The raging waters remind them too much of war, and they wonder if the ocean is ever calm.

"But why him?" She continues to ask, "Why not me, for example?"

Hashirama knows Touka is smart, brilliant, a truly gifted shinobi, but she cannot fight as ruthlessly as Tobirama. She is gifted in the art of genjutsu, a truly renowned master far and wide, but sometimes she becomes too soft, too engrossed in the world that she cannot destroy it. She has come to cherish it so much. They have all seen the horrors of war, but Touka took them and made them her own. She always thought that fighting was a savage art, and that genjutsu was a merciless one.

Touka can fight, but only for so long.

"If it came to it, would you be able to kill her?" Hashirama asked carefully.

Touka had come to sympathize with the foreigner, if only to a certain extent, and that would surely make it difficult for her. Betrayal is something too heavy to bear.

"Samurai live under a code of honor." She spoke plainly. "She would kill herself first."

Hashirama thinks then, if it would have been better to send Touka instead. But Tobirama has no sympathy for the foreigner, and killing her would be like killing all the others.

And he hopes that won't happen.

* * *

"I apologize."

The samurai's first words to Tobirama strike like a hot knife and the air outside the prison seem to burn with his displeasure. She wraps her arms around herself as if to hold her steady, fingers stiffening around her arms.

"I did not mean to be such a bother."

He does not think she is cold.

"It is done, now." He answers. "Let's get this over with quickly."

Two guards approach them with a satchel and her two swords. They hand over her things cautiously. If she dares attack any of them, they are ready.

"Thank you." She says quietly.

Her two swords lean against the wall, seemingly forgotten as she shuffles through the inside of the satchel as if in desperate need to find something.

And Tobirama will cut her where she stands as soon as–

It was a hairpin.

She took out a hairpin, a small one with a purple object carved on one end. A small smile appears on her face. She is relieved. And he wonders whatever for, it was a childish-looking thing and–

He remembers that his pity for her might probably be more than his anger.

And he also remembers another thing.

"Here."

He gives her back the ten silver coins. And she is speechless, dumbfounded–

"You waste your money on the unnecessary." He continued.

And she does not answer anything related to it.

"The maps." She says instead. "May I ask for the maps?"

He only gives her the map of their world.

"It seems your destination is far into the uncharted ocean. Be prepared." He warns. "And remember that the slightest sign of betrayal merits your death."

She nods. "To Hakuryou Island, then."

He has not heard of such a place.

"To port, then." He tells her, quick to walk ahead.

"No, we must go north and board a ship from–" She stops, "Kaminari no Kuni."

He disagrees, thinking that this is all part of her plan, but relents.

"Very well."

He is more than ready to face whoever, anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it ends there? Just kidding. We've got a long journey ahead of us, folks.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Believe it or not, I have a lot of plans for this story. It's going to be a long, arduous journey for this samurai and her shinobi guide.
> 
> Hope you all enjoy.
> 
> And, as a warning, I'll be jumping to and from times and scenes. So if anything's unclear, do inform me and I'll try to find ways to make these jumps clearer.

"You've come a long way."

The hermit stands his ground and she does not move to attack, she merely listens.

"Too far," he continues, "and for what?"

"A promise." She answers. And she is so sure, so determined and unwavering.

"The ocean is vast, the ocean is deep, but how can it compare to the sky?"

He smiles at her wistfully and stares, anticipating an answer. She pauses and wonders what to say. She has only ventured so far in the water and has only seen so much of the sky, but... What is the hermit even asking? What is the right answer? Is there even an answer at all?

_If the ocean... The ocean and the sky..._

The answer comes to her immediately.

_Mirrors. Mirrors!_

She catches her breath.

"A mirror." She finally answers. "The sky and the ocean are mirrors of each other–"

_No, that couldn't be the answer. That shouldn't be the answer. There must be..._

The hermit laughs.

"The same answer every time."

She clutches her hands into fists.

"You know so little of the world, you and the shinobi alike."

She bites her tongue and the hermit notices this.

"Have you ever felt the bottom of the ocean," he begins waxing poetics, "or reached the top of the sky?"

And she winces internally.

_This is a test. Of course, it is. And anyone who had answered such a thing failed._

She readies herself for something, for anything, to be transported back to the foot of the mountain and eternally forbidden from ever returning to this place. She answered wrong. Wrong.  _Wrong!_  She waits for the sound of the wind, perhaps a thunderclap, a rumble of the earth, or perhaps the feeling of falling.

But nothing comes.

The hermit stares at her in quiet amusement.

"No, you haven't." He answers the question himself.

She wonders exactly how many have come to this place in search for the sword, how many came to the hermit with the same answer, how many years have passed since the one who came before her, how many years the hermit had been standing guard on this island.

She thinks the hermit an immortal, a god. Perhaps he is an otherworldly creature who exists beyond the grasp of time.

Perhaps  _he_  wants to find the secret to the hermit's being instead.

_Perhaps._

"Which begs the follow-up question..."

She swallows her breath.

"Why?"

* * *

Yes. Why?

Why  _exactly_?

Why, after all that fuss and all that talk of metaphysics, did the hermit chose to send her to the distant past? To the past too far for her to recognize? Was this all some show of his power? Was this some sort of stage? Does she have to gain someone's approval in order to proceed into the actual past she wishes to go to? Does she have to actually go on this quest, retrieve Murai and deliver it to Tenbutsu Masamune, before being allowed entry into the fifteen-year-ago past?

_Oh, goodness._

She had forgotten to mention that to anyone.

But was it really so important?

_Yes, it is._

Perhaps they might have shown more mercy. She's a woman out of her time with a goal to correct a mistake she had done in the past. She didn't mean to appear here, or rather, she wasn't meant to appear here. She wasn't supposed to be a bother. She was supposed to change the world.

_His_  world.

Oh, how fairy tale-esque.

Perhaps the hermit saw through this. Perhaps he decided to play with her, such as the doings of gods in those stories she's read. Perhaps he'll let her go once he gets bored of her. Or perhaps he'll let her go once she accomplishes this self-made mission. Find Murai and deliver. Survive and move on. In other words, she brought this upon herself and she has no right to complain.

Which is why, in retrospect, she shouldn't have spoken against the guide assigned to her. It was something pre-destined, perhaps as part of the hermit's elaborate narrative or as the result of her carelessness. Perhaps she should have known who he is and how important he is.

But it wasn't like shinobi history was taught with gusto to the samurai.

So whoever this Senju Tobirama is, she can only assume he's some important shinobi with some generic achievements.

Perhaps this itself would be his greatest.

"I look forward to your companionship, Tobirama-dono."

No, she isn't. Not really.

* * *

And perhaps she should  _not_ have thought of such a thing.

Because the fanfare–if she may call it that–that accompanies their departure is anything but a sign of his supposed unimportance.

Hushed murmurs of variations of "Take care, Tobirama-sama!" accompany wary glances and threatening stares, both of which were directed at her. Villagers and shinobi alike, taking a brief pause from their early morning errands and routines, would greet them this way. A hushed whisper to him and a wary glance toward her. Do they not take well after foreign visitors? Was her being a suspicious character spread throughout the village so quickly? If such a thing had happened overnight, what did it say? Did it say that she was some sort of foreign spy? A traitor? Or perhaps was the rumor only about her speaking nonsense about coming from the future?

_No one else should know about this, so why are they staring?_

"Tobirama-sama!" A woman called out, visibly shaken and clutching her young baby to her chest.

He notices the woman's apprehension. "What is it?"

"Would you be passing by Inari no Sato by any chance?"

He glances toward her, the tiniest bit–

She hasn't heard of an Inari no Sato.

–and the woman follows his narrowed glance, looks at her with pleading, doe-like eyes.

Shikai nods immediately.

" _How impulsive."_ A voice chides inside her head.  _"How kind. How generous."_

She doesn't hear this. Instead, she hears a sharp intake of breath and a forced sigh.

"Yes."

"Oh, thank you!" The woman stepped forward. "I would like to request something of you."

It then occurs to her that she was the one who breathed in too quickly, who answered too quickly, and he was the one who sighed, who shut his mouth and let her run hers.

Part of her thanks this impulsive vein. He's not going to kill her.

And part of her hates the fact that such a thing still exists in her body. He's just not going to kill her  _yet_.

"Would you deliver this to my husband?" The woman takes a small item from her sleeve, a small, expensive-looking bag likely to hold a piece of jewelry. "It's a... Tell him I... Tell him to take care."

And it's as if three thousand things rush into her at once. She's silent and stiff. She knows what to do, knows that she should reach out and meet the woman halfway, knows that she should take the item and reassure her. She knows this. She's done this before. She–

She's done this before.

It's almost as if this had happened–

"We will." He answers for her.

The woman turns to him and her face lights up. "Oh, thank you so much, Tobirama-sama! I will forever be grateful!"

He nods, takes the small bag from her hands, reassures her that her husband is safe, and walks on. But not without giving her a wary, if not suspicious, glance. She trails after him carefully, forcing such a thought out of her mind. After all, she was just retracing her steps until she reaches the island, right?

And then the memory comes back to her.

A woman, a villager, had asked her a similar thing.

" _Could you deliver this to my granddaughter?"_

Could this then be a recreation of her journey? Had the gods been watching her, as they have all the others who ventured before her? Could this be just inside her head, a test of her determination and will? Or could this be just a massive coincidence? That this is indeed the past and has nothing to do with what had happened to her in her time, in her original journey?

She swallows her nervousness and hopes that it is.

"You..."

It wasn't until they were past the village gates that he said a word to her.

"What are you thinking?" He turns to her completely, a dangerous aura radiating off him.

She knows she must answer, and she does.

"This has happened before."

_No. Wrong answer._

Thankfully, the words don't escape her mouth.

"She was hopeless."

He doesn't say anything, and she continues.

"Whatever she wanted to give him was expensive." The woman was dressed plainly, her yukata frayed at the hem, and she looked to have had little to no sleep. She could only assume the woman had spent a month's earnings to acquire such a thing. "She had no more money and hoped that–"

"You had no right." He cuts her off sharply. "You know nothing."

It is a threat.

And he makes sure she knows this. He steps forward, too close to her space, a presence looking her dead in the eye, an aura strangling and suffocating, so much power, so much repulsion, so much anger. He doesn't tower over her, not that much, so she tries to breathe evenly, remain calm, stand her ground. She's faced opponents like him before, strong and masculine and could easily crush her spine if given the chance.

She remembers that she gave none of them such an opportunity.

But him... It might be a different story.

He might force her to give him the chance.

Just like  _him_.

And she fears that terribly.

"I only–"

"You will not speak to anyone else," he hisses, "unless I allow you to."

She hears her heart beat a still, calm rhythm.

_Good._

"Yes." She answers.

He steps back and walks without telling her anything more.

" _The smart know what to say, the wise know when to say it."_

It was among her mother's list of proverbs, and it was something she repeatedly failed to do.

* * *

"A promise."

That is what she tells the hermit.

"A promise." He echoes. "A frail, yet powerful thing."

She supposes that he, like certain gods, amuses himself by toying with humans.

"But surely there's more to it than that."

She supposes she's right.

"Isn't it enough that a promise is kept?" She asks.

"But you aren't here to act on just a promise."

_Of course, he would know._

"You are for something else. And perhaps that is the only thing you are here for." The hermit approaches her slowly, studying her expression as if analyzing relic.

"You are here for yourself." He frowns. "How selfish you are."

"I am not." She denies him.

"It is only your promise." He continues, undeterred by her answer. "He did not make it."

"You lie."

" _I promise."_ A boy's words ring in her head, loud and clear.  _"I shall wait."_

"A promise is a fickle thing." The hermit chides her as if she were a child.

And perhaps she is, to some immortal like him, perhaps she has yet to outgrow her childish hope and her immature desires. Perhaps he finds it funny that she, even at her age, treasures such petty things as testaments, that she still wears the small hairpin as proof of his...

_No. This is a test._

"A fickle thing with unimaginable power, is it?" The hermit muses aloud.

"How boring." He yawns mockingly. "You're just like everyone else, it seems."

" _You're nothing special."_  A voice adds.  _"You're just like everyone else."_

She wonders if she would have been better off not running her mouth like this. And her mother did tell her that running her mouth would only lead her to a dead end.

" _There's a reason why we only have only one tongue. Can you run with just one leg?"_

She didn't understand what her mother meant back then.

* * *

But she does now.

Now that she's running across treetops when she would rather ride on horseback. Now that she's lagging behind a shinobi due to inexperience this type of travel. Now that she's feeling very threatened by the man who is supposed to guide her. Now that she's regretting ever opening her mouth at that particular moment. Now that she wishes she becomes sure that this is the past and she no longer hopes that this is a dream.

She thinks things would be better once she's sure. There would be no more room for doubt.

But how can she?

Her father told her of a way to know if one is still dreaming.

It involves pain. A physical sensation. The sight of blood. Death.

She fell from a cliff in a dream once long ago, and she woke up right before she hit the ground. Some genjutsu also have death as the trigger, and some...

No, she shouldn't risk it.

Not until she can trust him to not kill her outright.

Not until she can trust him with her life.

And she knows that will only happen after he trusts her enough with his.

No. "If."

If he trusts her enough.

And all she wanted was to find a sword.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... That was something? I felt like writing so... Nothing substantial happened?
> 
> Feedback is always appreciated. Thanks for reading.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From here on, the arcs draw inspiration from several sources. In this arc, Seven Samurai.
> 
> This update is considered early by my standards, but half of this was done last month, so...

It's not really a wonder that they've found themselves at the aid of this village. And it's no surprise at all that they're on the front lines. Inari no Sato is far from being a village with military forces of its own and the farmers can only do so much against their aggressors. She supposes her guide is indebted to Tatsumaki. Perhaps they were teammates or partners before. Perhaps they were even friends. She supposes he's acting out of this debt, perhaps Tatsumaki saved his life before and doing this would be more than enough of a payment.

"You would trust us at the front lines, Tatsumaki?"

"Nothing less for a man of your caliber, Tobirama-sama."

She stands behind them, still a stranger.

Perhaps Tastumaki idolized her guide.

Perhaps she is wrong about her guide being an unimportant shinobi.

But there is no time to dwell on those thoughts. The signal bell rings again. The bandits are closer now.

"Twenty-six. All approaching from the north."

She thinks that if they were an actual unit, twenty-six would be a small number. There's only eleven of them, them and the eight volunteers. She can't blame any of the people for being afraid. They've only survived up until this point. Farmers don't really stand a chance against vagrants from the war, former shinobi and former samurai alike who have banded together to take back what was lost from them.

Her guide glances at her then, wary and cautious as he is still suspicious of her.

Three days have passed on this journey.

" _Don't keep me waiting."_

Three days is far too long.

* * *

Murai.

She remembers the sword from her childhood. The mystical blade carved straight from a dragon's fang. Located on an island protected by the dragon itself. The gift of said dragon to mankind, a gift that only the worthy can claim. She doesn't know how many have ventured in search of this sword, doesn't know how long ago its legend started to spread, doesn't know how exactly she can get the sword, doesn't know if–

"It's half a day's journey southwest."

Well, she won't have to ask him anything if he spews out answers on his own. He's become more like a real guide now, quite like those wise spirits who tell the hero what to do and where to go.

"Far from port, even farther from Kaminari no Kuni."

She knows his displeasure. They should have made their way as fast as they can, make it to Kaminari in three days, take a boat to Hakuryou Island, hike up the mountain, and–

Would the hermit be present then?

But now is not the time to be thinking such things, not when she's off to the opposite side of the world, not when she's supposed to be off to fulfill some promise she made to a civilian  _just like before_.

"Inari no Sato is still ways away."

His curt tone and rigid posture make him feel more like a hurrying adult waiting for a yet-to-be-dressed child.

"Hurry."

He's standing a few yards away and above her, standing on a larger branch, whilst she leans against the trunk as she catches her breath. She's not used to running up in the trees and they both know that. There's no need for her to tell him anything.

"Go on." She tells him.

He glances down at her before rushing forward, still in the trees.

* * *

Inari no Sato is a small village, an agricultural village surrounded by rice paddies, easily accessible with seven paths cutting through the forest beyond the village borders. The council hall is situated in the center, a large, wooden longhouse, and is surrounded by several small buildings, shops and residences alike. The village's people are a hardy people, having gone through storm after storm after storm...

And yet she cannot help but notice the wary glances directed at them. She'd like to think they're directed at her, but most eyes were trained on him.

Whether it is in fear or in awe, she does not know.

"We're looking for Tatsumaki." He asks a passing villager.

And the villager darts away, hurrying out of their sight. He goes to ask another, but the nearby woman scurries away as quick as the previous man. An idea comes to her suddenly. Perhaps these people fear the shinobi, that perhaps this village had been terrorized or mistreated by such people.

Perhaps even the samurai had abused them.

She wants to ask, but remembers their deal and stands quietly behind him.

_"How obedient. But you aren't the type to stand idle."_

She doesn't hear the voice, instead she listens to her guide.

"Now, do you see?"

His question is heavy in the silence. She supposes he is always like this, always questioning, always quick to assume that the answer he seeks is obvious.

"They're afraid." She says.

And it's seen not only in the wary stares and how the two villagers were quick to get away, but also in the way everyone is suddenly in a hurry. She doesn't want to think it's because of him or his village specifically, but in something more common, more real.

Shinobi.

Samurai.

War.

She wonders if this is just an automatic reaction. She also wonders why, if the war did pass through this area, the village still looks prosperous and peaceful.

And she doesn't have to ask, of course, because he tells her anyway.

"Tatsumaki is a prisoner here."

Well, that wasn't the answer she expected.

* * *

And what he meant by prisoner was that Tatsumaki cannot will himself to leave the village.

They found him by a smithy, talking voraciously with an older man, perhaps the village chief. Upon seeing them, the older man immediately excuses himself and Tatsumaki frowns. It's obvious that Tatsumaki knows Tobirama. It's possible that he's gone through this scenario before, someone from his hometown is looking for him, but whether it is with Tobirama or some other shinobi, she doesn't know. She feels inclined to know, and yet thinks she is not welcome to.

And she is right in thinking that, because Tobirama raises his arm in a clear sign that she should stay out of whatever is to happen between him and Tatsumaki.

"Tobirama-sama." He greets monotonously.

"Tatsumaki." And Tobirama greets him in the same tone.

He takes the small satchel from his waist and hands it over quietly. Tatsumaki takes it hesitantly and his frown deepens.

"I cannot return." He is quick to say, "Not until I am sure."

And Tobirama's reply is automatic. "You are first a shinobi of Konoha, not these people."

"Yet who do these people serve?"

There's a pause, the slightest amount of hesitation before Tobirama answers in a hushed tone, "I ask you the same thing."

The silence hangs in the air, like a noose around their necks. Tatsumaki was a formidable shinobi, with sinewy arms and a hardened stare, now his hair is starting to turn gray and his face has started to look fuller. Perhaps it is difficult to think that he is happier here, that perhaps he has decided to stay here, even years after the war, because it is so.

But Tobirama refuses to accept this.

"The woman," Tatsumaki suddenly asks, quick to sense the uncomfortable atmosphere, "who is she?"

And he asks that out of fear. She is a stranger, a potential threat to the semblance of peace he has created in this village.

"She is none of your concern." Tobirama grounds out.

"She is a samurai."

And suddenly Tatsumaki is curious. His mind starts working out a plan. His mind starts asking questions. Why would Senju Tobirama be in the company of a samurai? Why would a samurai be in the company of a shinobi?

"What is happening in Konohagakure?"

Tobirama thinks he can use Tatsumaki's concern to bring him back for good, but decides against it. He isn't so low to resort to such means.

If he were any younger, he would have told him, "See for yourself." with all the bitterness and sarcasm he could fit in his young body. But he is older now, the wars have changed him, the wars have changed all of them.

And the absence of his answer prompts Tatsumaki to say, "These people are being threatened."

He thinks to sway Tobirama and garner his sympathy.

"There are bandits, ronin, vagrants from the war."

The way Tobirama's expression stiffens tells him he has a chance of success.

"They take as they please. They take what they want. These people live in fear."

He knows the Senju Clan knows all too well about such things.

"These people need protection. If we could offer it to them in exchange for-"

Tobirama silences him. "For what? For supplies? Did you forget who these people served in the war?"

Inari no Sato is near to both Konohagakure and Konohagakure's enemies, placing it in a position of both power and vulnerability. It is likely by sheer luck that it still stands today.

Tatsumaki. "We've all made amends, Tobirama-sama."

"Our enemies will strike in our blindness."

And with that line, Tobirama leaves.

* * *

"Go."

His abrupt command forces her upright.

She did not hear their conversation, which is why she thinks they've merely had a disagreement when she sees him walk past her. His steps are heavier, his shoulders are stiffened. He wants to leave this place immediately.

_Of course, we've wasted enough time already._

It will take them another half-day before they get back to the original route. She does not like traveling at night. The darkness is more traitorous than it is advantageous, but she is not trained in the art of stealth anyway. She only manages to get by with light feet and quiet breathing, and her profession rarely ever tasks her with such a thing.

Traveling at night is unfavorable, but not impossible.

And if she wants to gain even a semblance of his trust, she should remember that she is in no position to complain.

A bell rings in the distance. It's like a signal, an alarm. And she knows it is so because the people suddenly stiffen, bolt upright, and look towards the direction of the sound before scurrying in a manner that's almost systematic. It's as if this has happened several times before.

"They're coming from the east!"

"Hurry, bring the children inside!"

"Hide beneath the floorboards!"

Everything happens around them in a panic. They're caught in the middle of it and they cannot get away, not without feeling guilt and remorse. At least, that is what she thinks. She could only suppose that his pensive expression means the same thing.

"Tastumaki-dono!"

The man emerges from the smithy and walks past them with a determined, yet frightened, air.

"It's them! They've come again!"

They're caught in the chaos, standing idle and itching to move. She knows as well as he does that they ought to do something, but what could they do? What should they do? Strangers are better off not meddling, but... They are not mere strangers, are they?

" _Oh, how good you have become."_

She doesn't hear these thoughts amidst the noise, but hears her guide speak instead.

"Tatsumaki."

* * *

Tobirama knows this. He knows this situation all too well. This is something he's used to, something he knows through and through. He knows a way out of this. He likes to think he knows all the possible ways out of this. His father heralded him as a genius. His youth was spent more on the battlefield than indoors. He spent more time in his youth fighting and training than he did sleeping and eating. He knows what to do in this situation.

In the event of an enemy ambush, there are only two possible actions. A retreat or a full-blown attack. No surrender. Never a surrender.

But he is in an unfamiliar position. He is in another's territory. He is likely in the enemy's territory. He is a stranger. Though he has an ally, he is unsure where his ally's loyalty stands. And then there is the samurai, the stranger from a strange time.

He thinks this might be an ambush, an elaborate ploy of some sort. Perhaps Tatsumaki has already betrayed them. Perhaps this had been set up long ago. Perhaps the samurai is in on it as well. Perhaps Madara–

No. He doesn't think the Uchiha would resort to such ignoble means. If they meant to eliminate their enemies, they would do it outright. No need for this sort of grand scheme.

He hears people cry out. Some give orders. Some relay messages. Some respond. It's all too reminiscent of wartime. They're all thrown into a panic, all frantic and scared. Perhaps he had misjudged the people. Perhaps, years after the war, they had begun to live a life of their own, no longer bound by to those they had served in the war.

" _These people are being threatened."_

Perhaps they have made amends.

But he can't think about this thoroughly enough, not when the people's oppressors are about to attack.

"There are only thirteen of them."

And only thirteen.

If he had the luxury of time, he wouldn't be calling Tatsumaki so suddenly with already a plan in mind.

* * *

If Tatsumaki had been given the opportunity to choose who to fight alongside with during the war years before, his answer would be the same as any shinobi.

The Senju.

Or the Uchiha.

It was an either-or kind of situation. There weren't many notable shinobi, none nearly at the same level as those two clans. Even now, he still doubts if any clan had gotten closer to their level.

But Senju Tobirama stands before him now, the very image of command and order, stating that there are thirteen of the vagrants coming to attack. Tatsumaki is shocked, delighted, and terrifyingly awestruck that he cannot form a proper response.

"Only?" His mind is stuck on that idea.

Surely Senju Tobirama is a shinobi more than capable of disposing of these–well, "dispose" might be too strong of a term. "Deal with" might be a better choice.

In any case, Senju Tobirama is strong enough to deal with those vagrants by himself. The fact that he's informing him of the number is, quite frankly, a sign of acknowledgement. And Tatsumaki considers it a fever dream to be acknowledged by one of the strongest shinobi of the age.

But more than that, this means that Inari no Sato might have a fighting chance.

"Who are the enemy?"

When that is asked of any shinobi, the answer should be automatic.

"Fighters who have banded together after the war, samurai, shinobi, bandits. Their leader is unknown. They come at irregular intervals, but so far no civilian has been harmed. But they're sending more now, taking more."

It's everything Tatsumaki knows and everything Tobirama should know. If they had more time, they could plan this better, help the people better.

"Tatsumaki-dono!"

But they don't.

Thirteen is a big number compared to the seven they've sent before. Tatsumaki doesn't think this is a normal raid, it can't be. They're going after more things. They might even go after the people.

"Stay inside. We'll handle this."

It's an order he hasn't given before, an order he had only imagined him saying, and yet...

"Tatsumaki–"

"Tobirama-sama." He didn't imagine himself to cut off a Senju, and yet he continues, "This number is far greater than the last. I cannot put people in harm's way."

Energetic and determined they may be, a single shinobi or samurai is enough to defeat at least three of them. Tatsumaki could handle six to seven with relative ease, but thirteen?

He may finally get to see the legendary Senju in action.

"Good." Tobirama nodded.

Tatsumaki had never been commended like that before.

So he presents himself with a greater sense of determination.

"They're all coming from the same direction. I shall take the front line."

Tobirama nodded and stepped aside, deciding to stand behind him.

Tatsumaki's eyes wandered over to the samurai who was standing quiet and aloof. She was gripping the hilt of her sword, but has her eyes downcast as if debating over something. He has a number of questions for her, primarily how she found herself in the company of a shinobi. Was she some sort of diplomat or representative? Why is she accompanied by none other than a Senju? Or why was she accompanying a Senju? Why were they here in the first place? Surely Tobirama wouldn't go out of his way just to deliver a token.

The samurai looks at Tobirama then, a questioning look on her face as if asking for permission.

"Do what you must."

Tobirama's reply is curt, simple, an order.

And she nods quite like an obedient servant.

Tatsumaki decides that he will find out exactly what is behind all this.

The bell rings for the final time. The villagers are hiding. The enemy is only yards away now, they can perfectly execute a long-range attack from the trees, or catch them off guard with a bomb. He readies his kunai, sees Tobirama from his periphery in a fighting stance, hears the faint sound of a sword being drawn.

There are only thirteen.

Surely the three of them can handle this with relative ease.

And then he sees it.

That dangerous color.

The Sharingan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. That was... a lot.
> 
> Let me know what you think! Thanks for reading.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So someone made me realize that my story could be better told if I had given more weight to the decisions and more sense in the events. Upon reviewing the story, the events now appear to me as solely based on sheer luck–much like the events in this chapter, shocking. Anyway, I've made it a point to rewrite this story (so early on!) and make things more grounded. I think I've finally figured out my "writing style" and how to best utilize it.
> 
> Take this as the last update for now. I know I tend to "abandon" stories, but I'm getting back. I think I really just need to read more stories set in this dynamic era.
> 
> Anyway, feedback is always appreciated. I wouldn't be able to write this story better otherwise.

She learned from an early age that war was nothing to be proud of, that war was something people were forced into. No one really wants to start a war, not really. Titles and positions mean nothing against the bite of the blade, anyway. But everybody fights to end it. That's what all the fighting is about, anyway. To end the war.

She wasn't supposed to be a soldier. Far from it, in fact. She was raised to be a leader, a diplomat, the head of her clan in less than two decades' time.

_"Defiant child. You will know the error of your ways."_

When she was nine years old, her mother bore a son and she took it as a ticket to freedom. At fourteen years old, a war broke out and she fought through steel and through storms just to have her name listed on the roster.

_"No one was ever proud of winning a war."_

Her grandfather died before the war ended.

Now, more than a decade later, she finds herself a soldier on someone else's battlefield. It's almost reminiscent of the very same journey she took to get to the island. Perhaps the gods really are toying with her. Perhaps Inari no Sato was just a mere town caught up in the aftermath. But the thought makes this all the more terrifying. If she had not before heard of an Inari no Sato, if this place had not been mentioned in any of the historical texts she has read, wouldn't this be a futile gamble? Even if they emerge victorious once, what then?

She doesn't talk about any of those things, not in the presence of anyone from the village, not when she's about to fight. But she does have to say it at some point, right?

She banishes the thought to her stomach.

_"Oh, how self-righteous you are."_

The voice chimes in, but she doesn't listen.

Instead, she looks to her guide. Hers, as if she had a claim. Hers, as if she was no older than her dreamy younger self. Hers, as if he was something to be owned, to be coveted. She thinks maybe she should refer to him by a name, whether it is his own or his family's. Maybe she should tell him to refer to her in the same way.

But not now. Not for a while. He does not yet trust her.

And so she looks at him, asking for an answer. What should she do? Where should she go? Who should she follow?

"Do what you must."

And guide her, he does.

* * *

With a hand on Kunishige's hilt, she prepares to make the blade sing.

They're closer now.

Her grip tightens.

And then she sees the flash of red–

It happens fast, faster than the sound of a bell ringing, faster than the motion of a swinging blade. Like lightning against the midnight darkness, it happens too fast to fathom yet too clearly to be ignored.

She falls to the ground.

_"You're nothing special. You're just like everyone else."_

The voice echoes in her head. It rings as clear as the sound of the bell. And she can hear it now, louder than ever before. It rings and it continues. It doesn't stop. It doesn't end. It keeps on.

_"You've kept me waiting."_

_Why won't it stop?_

_"A promise is a fragile thing."_

_Why won't it end?_

_"You're nothing special."_

_Please–_

_"You are the only one..."_

_Quiet._

_"...I would allow by my side."_

_Silence!_

Darkness seeps into her vision, but the voice remains.

_"The only one..."_

It rings in her head.

* * *

It surprises her, the way she wakes up without a sudden jolt or an ache in her bones.

It's even more surprising than the fact that she does wake up. The thatched ceiling greets her along with the twilight sun. She is in a bare room. She hears hushed whispers and distant crying beyond the four walls. She breathes slowly in fear of having a broken rib or a tender bruise, but feels nothing. It's as if she had just been sleeping–

_No. That's impossible._

She still remembers things clearly. She was there. She was standing, ready to unsheathe Kunishige. She couldn't possibly...

She sits upright, slow to mind any torn muscle or fractured bone, but feels nothing but the soreness from sleeping on hard ground. She moves her fingers slowly, curls her toes gently. She moves her body slowly, trying to gauge for pain or any other sensation, but feels... nothing. The idea is inappropriate, almost vile. Nothing has happened to her?

_Could it be..._

She fancies the idea that she is in her own time, in some hut in the woods, that everything that had just transpired was a fever dream.

And she wishes it were so, because the person she sees is an injured Tatsumaki. His right arm is in a sling. There is a bandage around his chest. A purple bruise is forming on his temple. And she could swear he had a bit of trouble walking in.

"You're awake!" He says giddily as if his own injuries didn't matter.

She feels undeserving of such a greeting.

"We were so worried, samurai-san!" He approaches her, and it confirms her suspicions. His left leg is injured. "Can you stand?"

She supposes she can, so she does.

"I'm sorry."

Once upright, her response was automatic, almost monotonous.

"I wasn't of any help, I don't know–" She stops herself. She knows full well that there is no excuse for her inaction.

Yet she wonders what really happened to her.

"It could have happened to anyone." Tatsumaki says comfortingly.

_But why me?_

"It's not your fault."

She knows better than to accept his kindness.

* * *

Kindness.

He thinks he might have been too kind on this journey. The day is coming to an end and he isn't any closer to figuring out who the hell this samurai is. No, perhaps he's already found a clue. Perhaps what happened is already a clear indication. When she fell to the ground...

He thinks this is part of the plan. She led him here, she and that woman both, in order to eliminate what might be the Uchiha's only obstacle to gaining power. Tatsumaki is dispensable. This entire village is dispensable. The very presence of an Uchiha in the group is altogether suspicious. Uchiha would never work with anyone besides their own.

But the war has ended. Perhaps he had been disgraced. Perhaps he is a vagabond now. Perhaps there are more of them.

And the thought of more Uchihas terrorizing villages even after the war seems even more likely than the idea of her working under their orders.

If she was, she would have betrayed them earlier.

_Or perhaps she is just biding her time._

He doesn't know what to think anymore.

"Tobirama-sama!"

Tatsumaki's voice breaks him from his reverie.

"What is it?"

"She is awake."

And he has brought the samurai with him. She looks nothing but dazed and embarrassed, keeping her hands together and her head low. He glances at her direction disdainfully. She is no samurai, she has done nothing to prove that she is. She is a mumbling coward.

"I..."

"Silence."

He rises quickly, ignoring the sharp pain. He had been injured earlier, a shallow cut rips across his back. He had been caught off-guard, as furious as he is to admit it, by her sudden withdrawal from battle.

Tatsumaki stands awkwardly beside her.

"I shall take my leave for now."

He knows better than to witness Tobirama's wrath.

"You are a coward."

She stiffens.

"A liar."

She doesn't dare meet his eyes.

"Nothing at all like a samurai."

He approaches, treading through the dirt floor. It's difficult for him not to rush forward and strike her for her incompetence.

"Who are you?"

It's a harsh whisper, a hissing insult, an angry question.

"I heard a voice."

And he strikes her then, a tight fist against her shoulder.

"Do not lie."

She steps back, but only slightly, as if she expected it. And she returns to her position like a practiced shoulder, quickly and obediently.

"I do not."

She meets his eyes.

"I was paralyzed, forced down, tormented in my own head."

He knows the feeling.

"I have not encountered the Sharingan before, hence my inexperience."

She does not apologize.

"It shall not happen again."

He understands what she means by her statement and doesn't wonder why she has said such a thing.

"Words mean little when action is called for."

"Then we will pursue them."

She stiffens, ready to correct herself.

"If that is your decision..." He says quietly, "then so be it."

She decided for them to come to this village, then it is her decision as to how they will leave it. If her decision, no matter how rash, was to pursue the enemy and put an end to his once and for all–or perhaps to lure him to the Uchiha–at least it wouldn't involve this village.

"We're going after them?"

Tatsumaki hadn't left, apparently.

* * *

Pursuing the enemy was never a samurai's first choice. Protecting their charges had always come first. In this case, protecting the village was the primary concern. But she can't stay here any longer, she doesn't know how much time she had been given. Pursuing the enemy eliminates the threat and minimizes the time, so of course, it's the obvious choice.

The times she had pursued the enemy were few and far between.

_"Follow them."_

She had no right to suggest such a thing, much less when she had done nothing hours before.

_"Follow them for me."_

But if she dares to follow them alone, she might not survive. She had not expected there to be an Uchiha in their ranks. If they were just a group of ragtag bandits, it would have been easier to pursue them alone.

_"Eliminate them."_

She stops herself when the words have already come out of her mouth, expecting him to chide her for being so rash and unthinking.

But he does nothing of the sort.

Instead, he might actually agree with her.

So they will pursue the enemy and eliminate them.

But Inari no Sato had been destroyed...

She leaves that thought in the recesses of her mind.

"We're going after them?"

Because what occupies her mind now is the fact that Tastumaki had likely heard everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So maybe the next time you see an update, this story will be going by a different title and a different summary. In any case, I hope you continue reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Well, following Hey, hero! and but it gets worse (oh, you just gotta love the aesthetic feel of the all-lowercase haha), I like putting characters into situations they aren't ready for.
> 
> I will get back to my other works for Naruto, just not now.
> 
> Feedback is always appreciated. Thanks for reading.


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